


Truth Is

by homewithyou



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, I just want them to be in suits together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexy lawyers Damen and Laurent, Slow Burn, They fight but they're so thirsty for each other, lawyer AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homewithyou/pseuds/homewithyou
Summary: Damen and Laurent are two lawyers and sworn enemies. All of that changes when Damen comes to work at Laurent’s law firm and they’re forced to work together on a case that’ll change the trajectory of both of their lives.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my lawyer AU that I've been brainstorming forever. I intend for this to be long, so buckle up! Damen and Laurent have a lot ahead of them :) The title of this fic is based on the song "Truth Is" by Sabrina Claudio, which has inspired me a lot while writing this. Also, the rating is for later chapters. 
> 
> My admittedly limited knowledge of lawyer-y stuff comes from an internship at a civil law firm I did a while back. If a lawyer out there wants to correct me on anything, go right ahead! Some of what I'm going to write is unrealistic, but that's the point of fanfiction, isn't it? 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this!

When Laurent stepped out of his apartment building into the crisp Autumn air, he scowled; it was sunny. Deciding to ignore this setback and determined to have some semblance of a decent day, he quickly set out down the street while slipping sunglasses on, weaving through throngs of people walking too damn slowly for New York. Buildings and storefronts passed in a blur as he made a mental checklist of the tasks he’d have to complete that day. After a handful of blocks, he reached his destination, Bake & Brew. He pushed through the door of the weathered, nondescript storefront and was met with a swell of warm air from within and the comforting smell of coffee grounds, cinnamon and pastries – a welcome everyday comfort. There weren’t too many people inside, and those present were either working silently on their computers or reading. There were many parts of the city that harbored negative memories from childhood that Laurent would prefer not to be reminded of, so he always made sure to appreciate the peacefulness that came with a relatively unknown café free from his uncle’s influence. 

Laurent walked up to the counter and took off his sunglasses, loosening his navy blue scarf a bit so he wouldn’t start sweating through his suit while in the cozy interior. Alex, a young brown-haired cashier who had been working there for as long as he could remember, greeted him as he walked up to her.

“Hey, Laurent, how you doing today?” Alex asked, smiling at him from behind the register. “You want the usual?” 

“Yes,” Laurent replied, giving her a small smile back. He liked Alex, despite his strict philosophy of not liking anyone who looked his way. She was funny and matched his wit, taking all of his small jabs and throwing them right back at him without taking any offense. She also didn’t pry into Laurent’s personal life and just let him relax in privacy in his favorite corner of the café whenever he dropped in for longer periods of time. “I’m doing okay, and you?” 

“You know, same old – dealing with customers, writing when I can, yelling at people who test my patience,” she replied as she took Laurent’s credit card and charged him for his order.

“Sounds riveting,” Laurent said distractedly, picking up a newspaper from a pile next to the register and flipping through its contents to search for any noteworthy news stories or potential cases. He was interrupted by Alex raising her voice and yelling “Torveld!” to get the attention of the other barista on duty who was currently nowhere to be seen. Laurent’s head shot up and he glared at Alex while she hid a laugh behind her hand, knowing good and well what she was doing to him. 

“Laurent!” A bright voice chirped as the kitchen door opened, and Laurent groaned internally as he managed a nod of greeting to the man now smiling in front of him. Torveld, a charismatic man in his early 30s, had been hired as a barista a few months ago and never failed to fit a flirty remark into conversations with Laurent whenever Laurent came to the café. Laurent simply wasn’t in the mood to deal with Torveld’s fumbling affections that day, as he’d only gotten three hours of sleep, but the new barista was harmless and meant well, and he could be mildly entertaining once in a blue moon. “Good morning to you. You look great. Is that scarf new?”

Before Laurent could think of a response, Alex bumped her shoulder into Torveld’s. “Come on, we got work to do. Make his coffee while I make the sandwich.”

“Alright, I’m going,” Torveld said, raising his hands in surrender and heading to the coffee machines. He sent a wink in Laurent’s direction. “You’re right, we do have work to do, as we have a very important customer here.” 

Alex groaned while Laurent ignored Torveld and went back to reading his newspaper. He flipped past sports announcements, skimmed over the entertainment articles and reached the standard news section. Unsurprisingly, New York never seemed to have a second of downtime from newsworthy events. He came upon an article about a string of kidnappings and burglaries near his neighborhood and frowned, making a mental note to up the security around his apartment. Laurent already had three sets of locks and an expensive alarm system, but his paranoia never seemed to end despite how much he barricaded himself in his home. His apartment wasn’t anything fancy and the neighborhood was anything but high class, but it also wasn’t typically a crime-ridden area. Laurent often saw kids running around in a park nearby that he avoided like the plague, so he felt a sliver of unease run through him. 

“Did you see we got some new pieces? I tried to space them out around the shop but I can point them out to you if you want,” Alex said while getting the materials to make Laurent’s coffee, jarring him out of his single-minded focus and referring to the artwork lining much of the café’s walls. Laurent glanced up for only a second to nod before returning to the article.

“Hey, don’t do that – you didn’t even look long enough to appreciate them!” Alex huffed in indignation. “Bad friend move.”

Laurent tore his attention away from his newspaper and looked up again to raise an eyebrow at her. “Really? You think I’m going to agree that we’re friends?” 

“You can’t lie to me, you love me. Don’t make me jump over this counter to hit you,” Alex joked, unaffected by Laurent’s indifference. 

“As if you’d be fast enough,” Laurent taunted. Alex pouted, and he sighed in defeat.

“Hm,” Laurent hummed, glancing around the walls seriously this time. They were covered with a dark maroon wallpaper and dozens of paintings, often from small artists trying to get recognition, as Bake & Brew was known locally for selling art to its patrons. To Laurent’s surprise, he spotted a piece that he did like: an oil painting depicting a barren icy landscape met by a vivid orange and pink sunset on the horizon that cast shadows over a pure white stag off to the side. Alex noticed his fixated stare and turned around to find what he was looking at. 

“Ah, that one,” Alex smiled, smug that she managed to impress Laurent with her curation. “It’s beautiful, but lonely, I think.” 

“I don’t think so,” Laurent protested mildly with a frown, not looking away from the painting. “It feels… tranquil. Comforting, almost.”

There was something about the painting that held Laurent’s attention – something that made him want to climb onto the counter and step into its canvas to run a hand through the stag’s fur, or trace its antlers. It would be peaceful to go live there, with nobody around him to see him, hear him or speak to him – to just sit, and breathe, and enjoy a moment of rest. Laurent was quickly pulled out of his reverie when he reminded himself that such a thing would never truly be possible. He was always being watched – by his uncle, by the few people that knew him yet he kept at arm's length, by strangers on the street. He wanted to disappear under their inquisitive gazes. _There’s nothing here_ , he thought, finally tearing his eyes away from the empty landscape when Alex set down his coffee in front of him on the counter. 

When he looked back to Alex’s face, she was gazing at him thoughtfully, as if trying to solve some puzzle. Laurent shifted uncomfortably on his feet and cleared his throat.

“Who painted it?” Laurent asked, not wanting to go down the rabbit hole of such a deep conversation and cursing himself for even opening that door in front of a stranger. He corrected himself with the thought that Alex wasn’t a stranger, but he knew that wasn’t true. She knew next to nothing about him beyond his preferred order and that he worked for a law firm, and he’d be better off remembering that fact instead of fooling himself into trusting someone that could easily turn on him for the right amount of money. 

“We just got that in yesterday from an artist named Halvik. I think you’d like her, she’s quite the woman – dark-haired and tall. She has a sexy voice, too,” Alex teased, winking at Laurent. Laurent looked at her dryly.

“Don’t play dumb, Alex. You can’t goad me into talking about my sexuality.” Alex broke out into laughter and Laurent rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of, here comes your boyfriend,” Alex joked, watching Torveld walk out of the kitchen with Laurent’s sandwich in a to-go bag. 

“One bacon, egg and cheese sandwich for Laurent!” Torveld proclaimed, handing over the paper bag as if he were offering Laurent a courting gift or wedding ring, as he did every day. “Anything else I can do for you?” 

“No, that’ll be all, thank you,” Laurent said briskly, quickly grabbing the bag and his newspaper and spinning around to head out of the shop. He gave a quick wave to Alex and walked out right as she started to say her goodbye.

Laurent completed the rest of his 10 minute walk to work deep in thought – about his cases, the newspaper article, the painting, the book he was reading, the firm’s business – until arriving at his office.

His morning was then promptly ruined by his uncle accosting him the minute he sat down in his office chair. 

“Nephew,” his uncle said by way of greeting, standing in his office doorway and looking Laurent up and down in a way that made Laurent shiver in distaste. He never felt like he could get away from his uncle’s gaze in the office.

“Uncle,” Laurent responded coolly as the older man smiled sickeningly. 

“I have news.”

“Oh? Would you deign to share it with me?” Laurent asked. 

“You know of Damianos Akielos, correct? You’ve faced him as opposing counsel often.” 

“Yes,” Laurent said slowly, racking his brain for any reason that his uncle might be bringing Damen up. Of course Laurent knew him. Damen was the bane of his existence. He couldn’t go a day without somehow being reminded of the man’s presence, whether it was dealing with Damen as opposing counsel or seeing something that reminded him of Damen (moments he was not proud of and tried to shove down as far as possible, because how could something as mundane as a dog or the sky remind him of someone he hated so much). 

Damen was a good lawyer, though Laurent would never admit it out loud. Laurent was confident in his skills, whether it be at an arbitration or mediation or in court itself, but Damen gave him a run for his money. He always had to prepare extra and steel himself for Damen’s dominating presence. Court was more boring than TV shows made it out to be, but Damen at least did make things a little more interesting for him. However, Damen was a nuisance and a distraction, and Laurent couldn’t forget that. 

“He’s coming to work for us,” Laurent’s uncle’s words took him out of his mind, and he reeled back for a moment. 

“ _What?”_ Laurent snapped, dumbfounded that this was even a possibility that was being considered. If Laurent thought he had trouble concentrating when Damen was his opposing counsel, how the hell was he supposed to get any work done with Damen at the office every day? “What makes you think this is a good idea? Damen is a sub-par lawyer at best. Why is he even here? What happened to Akielos & Associates?” 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? And don’t play the fool, Laurent, you know as good as I do that Damen is an amazing lawyer. He’s better than you, I’d say.” His uncle was baiting him, Laurent knew, but he refused to rise to it. 

“You’re going to regret this,” Laurent said, moving to walk past his uncle out of the office. However, his uncle stopped Laurent with a hand on his chest, to which Laurent recoiled violently from. He wanted to hiss _don’t touch me_ , but he knew that if he showed any outward sign of being riled up he would play right into his uncle’s hands. 

“Play nice,” Laurent’s uncle said quietly, not bothering to hide the threat behind his words. “If not, there will be punishment.” 

Laurent just rolled his eyes and shoved past his uncle, choosing to ignore the harsh words and heading to their Monday morning meeting down the hall instead. 

When he opened the door, he was brought up short when he saw that Damianos himself already sat in the room, looking down at his notepad while deep in thought. 

✦✦✦

Damen lifted his head at the sound of the door opening just in time to process a ridiculously distinctive head of blonde hair and pretentious designer sunglasses shielding the gaze of the most difficult person Damen has ever had the displeasure of knowing. Well, _displeasure_ wasn’t quite the right word to describe what Damen felt around Laurent DeVere. Conniving, stubborn, detached and infuriatingly smart, Laurent was –

“Can you actually use your mouth or are you here to just look pretty?” A cold voice cut through Damen’s stream of consciousness and he realized, cursing himself, that he had been staring without saying anything. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Damen let a mocking smile bloom across his face as Laurent stepped into the room and took a seat across the table from Damen. 

“I didn’t know you thought I was pretty, sweetheart,” Damen drawled, thoroughly enjoying the way the sickly sweet pet name seemed to irk prim and proper Laurent. 

Without saying anything, Laurent took off his sunglasses, opened his organizing folder and started to flip through his notepad, eyes scanning the pages ahead of him and jotting down notes at random intervals. Damen watched it all with a half-smile on his face thinking about the efforts his counterpart was putting in to ignoring his very existence until the rest of the firm arrived at their meeting. As Laurent continued his silent treatment, Damen started to spin his chair side to side and tap his pen on his notepad just to see if he could elicit any further acknowledgement out of the man across from him. Laurent was clearly in a mood, and Damen wanted to take advantage of that.

Laurent’s hand tightened around his pen, but he said nothing further. Damen let out a dramatic sigh, and he saw Laurent purse his lips. He waited another minute to make Laurent think their silent standoff was over and then began to whistle the happiest tune he could summon. After the first few notes, Laurent slammed his folder shut.

“Can you get any more insufferable?” He snapped, his cold glare boring into Damen with a pure hatred that made Damen proud of his valiant and successful effort at getting under the ice prince’s skin. There was something so satisfying about seeing Laurent’s composure slip on the rare occasions when it happened. 

“I don’t know, but I could try for you,” Damen said, meeting his glare with both eyebrows raised in an open expression that he knew would aggravate Laurent even further. When Laurent pushed a breath out of his nose and opened up his folder to start looking through notes again, Damen said what he’d been giddily waiting to taunt Laurent with since yesterday morning. “Aw, are you mad we’re gonna have to work together? Worried you can’t keep up?”

Damen recognized he had gone too far and overestimated his leverage in this battle of wits when Laurent simply paused, his pen hovering over where it was about to write, and slowly looked up with a vindictive smirk on his face. 

“Actually, I would be worried if I were you. You couldn’t even hold a spot in your family’s own firm where you had the power of nepotism on your side, so what makes you think you’ll last one day here?” Laurent quipped.

Damen frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Laurent continued: “I wonder, what was it that made Kastor cast aside his dearest younger brother? Maybe your uncreative, one-dimensional closing arguments –”

“Hey –” Damen protested.

“– or was it your dimwittedness and naive belief that the law is about _justice_ and _truth_ rather than a game we all play? Or,” Laurent paused, bringing his pen up to his chin to pretend like he was deep in thought, “could it have been the absolute failure of the Bandelli case? There are so many options to choose from.” 

Damen gritted his teeth.

“Have you forgotten that I’ve beaten you in court before, so what does that say about you that someone so _dimwitted_ could ever get a leg up on you?” Damen shot back, bitter at the mention of a case which his firm should not have lost – and a loss that Damen thoroughly believed he wasn’t responsible for. 

Laurent narrowed his eyes and was about to reply with something equally acerbic when the door opened and a stream of lawyers entered the room, all chatting and taking their seats at the conference table around the two men who were focused only on each other. 

“Damen, how’s your first official day at the firm so far?” Orlant asked, taking a seat next to Damen and patting him on the back as if they hadn’t met the day before. Damen tore his gaze away from Laurent, who looked positively murderous at Damen’s words as well as the fact that he couldn’t reach across the table and tear Damen’s eyes out with everyone else around them. Damen forced a friendly smile on his face and turned to Orlant.

“Well, it’s only morning, but I feel right at home already. Laurent has been so warm and welcoming to me, I don’t know how I could possibly leave after this.” He could see Laurent’s eye twitch out of the corner of his eye. Orlant barked out a laugh. 

“He must be on his best behavior then,” Orlant responded good-naturedly, raising his eyebrows in Laurent’s direction, to which Laurent rolled his eyes. 

“Where’s Reginald, by the way?” Damen asked, searching the mingling lawyers for the familiar face; he had a few questions about the job that he needed answered. 

“The Regent should be here shortly. He usually waits until everyone settles in to make his grand entrance,” Orlant responded.

“The Regent?”

“That’s our little nickname for him – sort of like ‘boss.’ We chose regent because Laurent will technically inherit the firm at 25 – Reginald’s just in charge until then. Oh, and Reginald kind of sounds like regent if you think about it,” Orlant explained. Damen turned to Laurent, who was watching them with a carefully-constructed blank face. 

“How old are you now? 24?” Damen asked. 

“I don’t see why it particularly matters. I’ll be your boss soon enough either way.” Laurent replied coolly.

“I thought you were older. When did you even go to law school?” Damen felt caught off guard. He’d figured Laurent was at _least_ his age. Realizing someone five years his junior had handed his ass to him in court multiple times wasn’t the most comfortable revelation to be having, but he supposed it wasn’t _that_ big of a difference. It was just that Laurent carried himself with the elegance of someone with years and years of experience, from his unyielding posture to the way he moved about the courtroom with grace and ease. He acted like he owned whichever room he was in, so Damen could not fathom that he had probably graduated law school not so long ago. Laurent ignored Damen’s inquiry, of course, but Orlant piped up to answer for him.

“Laurent was quite the prodigy,” Orlant said with a pointed look in Laurent’s direction, “He graduated high school early and–”

“If we could not talk about my personal life, I’d greatly appreciate it,” Laurent said tightly, refusing to meet Damen’s eyes. A taste of bitterness curled in Damen’s mouth; of course Laurent wouldn’t want Damen to know anything about his life or upbringing. The fact that Damen was now a coworker didn’t change anything – Laurent would continue to hold his walls around him, tightly-secured and warding off any visitors. Damen wasn’t sure why it frustrated him so much – that despite everything Laurent wasn’t even willing to be friendly acquaintances – but it did nonetheless. Damen turned away and continued to make small talk with Orlant just to annoy Laurent until the room’s chatter died down when Reginald stepped up to the front of the room. The man clapped his hands and the room of lawyers all turned to face him.

“Cases, cases, where are we everyone? How are we doing?” Reginald asked the room, glancing over the group of lawyers as if surveying his royal subjects at court. “Lazar?”

“I’m still working on that cease and desist for Willis’ company, and I’m trying to get into contact with Mary Louise Thatcher’s second son about her will. Opposing counsel from the Martin case called back today, by the way, and I scheduled a meeting for 4. Oh, and I also left that demand letter for your review on your desk this morning.”

“Thank you, I saw that,” Reginald nodded, jotting down a few notes. “What about you, Huet? How was the mediation with Schwartz?”

Huet then launched into a long-winded story about how difficult his client was during the mediation process, which is about when Damen started to zone out. He knew that he should be paying attention and taking notes to become familiar with the different cases the firm was handling, but he couldn’t help but become distracted by the blonde man sitting across from him. 

Although Huet was the one speaking, Laurent instead watched his uncle like a hawk from across the room. He sat as still as a statue – an alabaster one, fittingly, given his smooth pale skin – but his eyes flicked slightly with Reginald’s movements. The Regent, Damen reminded himself, is what Orlant had called him earlier. Although Damen knew that this was Laurent’s family’s firm, Damen had not known that Laurent was set to take over at 25. He wondered how Laurent would run the firm, and what it would be like to work underneath his rival. Would he be cold and ruthless like he was in all his cases?

The sound of Laurent’s voice detailing a case he was working on broke Damen out of his reverie. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been zoned out for. It was easy to get lost in thought about Laurent, as much as Damen did not want to admit it. Damen inwardly chided himself for spacing out during the meeting and resolved to be more attentive as it continued. 

After each lawyer went around and gave a quick debrief of the important cases they were handling, the meeting came to a close. As Damen stood up to pack up his things, he heard Reginald call his name from across the room. He looked up and saw the man staring at him with a half smile on his face.

“Meet me in my office,” Reginald ordered, and then turned to leave the room with the rest of the lawyers now filing out. 

Damen turned to Laurent to make some teasing remark about being the new favorite when he processed Laurent’s expression – one that was hesitant and deeply unsettled. It made Damen pause; as much as he liked to get Laurent on uneven ground and catch him off guard, there was something about his face now that made Damen feel unsettled, too. And, Damen liked it when Laurent was unsettled because of _him_ , not someone else. The logic was twisted, but apparent nonetheless.

“You okay?” Damen inquired, trying to catch Laurent’s gaze from where it had followed Reginald outside of the room. Laurent’s attention snapped back to Damen in an instant, and he opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, his eyebrows furrowing. Damen struggled not to find the expression endearing. 

“I… yes. Why are you meeting with my uncle?” The reminder that Reginald and Laurent were related was stark; it was easy to forget, since they were nothing alike. Reginald looked at you like you were prey. He appeared as if he was calculating your weaknesses and insecurities as you spoke, silently sizing you up behind the veneer of a saccharine smile and polite words. Laurent felt colder than that. He did not bother with politeness and looked at people as if they were below qualifying as prey – as if they were not worth his time or attention. Damen could rarely find cracks in Laurent’s icy exterior, despite his tireless attempts. If you ever found a crack in Reginald’s, it was because he wanted you to find it, from what Damen had gathered about him during their encounters as opposing counsels over the years. Truth be told, although Laurent was endlessly difficult and biting, Damen still preferred his company over his uncle’s. At least with Laurent you knew what you meant to him – nothing – but with Reginald, one could never truly discern their standing with the man. 

“I’m not sure, we haven’t discussed an official meeting,” Damen admitted, scratching his neck. The last of the other lawyers had left, and they were alone. Laurent looked him up and down, as Damen tried not to blush, and then shuttered his expression away from Damen. 

“Well, in any case, I can’t see why he’d want to meet with you. Your ideas can’t possibly be revolutionary,” Laurent remarked, re-building his defenses around himself. 

Damen smiled. “Well, maybe he doesn’t need my ideas. Maybe he wants me to do what I’m here for, according to you – to sit and look pretty.” 

Laurent’s mouth started to turn up slightly as he turned away to leave, and Damen’s breath caught at the sight. 

“Mm-hm, bye-bye Damianos, can’t wait to work together,” Laurent said with false brightness, walking out the door. 

Damen was left alone in the conference room, staring at his notepad and thinking about that smile for a few minutes afterwards. 

When Damen gathered himself, he exited the room to head to Reginald’s office. He passed many different office doors on the way there, trying to memorize all of them for future reference. He wondered where Laurent’s office was. It didn’t seem to be near Reginald’s, so Damen made a mental note to go look for it after this meeting. He couldn’t help but be curious about Laurent’s office environment and work ethic. It would be a privilege to get a glimpse of how Laurent worked from the inside rather than facing his wrath and cunning in court. 

Damen reached Reginald’s office door, which was a dark mahogany with a gold plate that said “DeVere” near the top and a gold trim around the edges. It was by far the most intimidating door in the firm. The other doors of the building weren’t as big and had no embellishments, so it was as if Reginald wanted to make clear his unquestioned authority to his underlings.

“I know – it’s ostentatious, right?” a voice said from behind Damen. He turned around to see a woman of short stature but with the presence of a queen with dark brown hair and piercing emerald eyes. Apparently she could read Damen’s mind. 

“I suppose he has every right to be,” Damen replied, lowering his voice as he referenced his new boss right outside of his office. “I’m Damen.”

The lawyer shook Damen’s outstretched hand with a firm grip.

“Vannes,” she said with a smile. “I’ve heard of you before. You have quite the reputation – I admired your work on that case with Forebo. And, of course, everyone knows about the Bandelli case.”

Damen groaned internally. When was everyone going to finally drop that? How many people had even heard about it? 

“Yeah, we don’t speak of Bandelli v. Smith,” Damen said dryly, hoping Vannes would drop the subject. 

Vannes’ smile became wider, somehow. “Listen, if you’re going to work here, you learn quickly that your weaknesses aren’t private. If you fail, you fail, and everyone knows about it, and everyone gets to talk about it. It’s fair game.”

Damen hardly considered that fair nor did he think about work environments as games to be played, but he supposed he’d have to adapt. After all, this was one of the only other firms in New York that rivaled his family’s firm in success and status, and he wouldn’t settle for less. 

“I really couldn’t believe it,” Vannes continued. “Perjury _and_ falsification of evidence? Quite the witnesses you all found at the honorable Akielos & Associates.” 

Damen sighed. They _were_ supposed to be honorable, as their reputation stated. Damen now knew that was not the truth. Kastor had insisted they take on that case, for reasons beyond Damen. Damen had repeated over and over again that a few of their witnesses were lying and hiding things, and Kastor repeatedly dismissed his concerns without any explanation. Of course, Kastor had mandated that Damen take on the case because “no one else is as capable as you, brother,” but Damen knew things were doomed from the start. The loss had become infamous for the sheer amount of lying involved, and it still followed Damen almost a year later. 

“Yes, well, we can’t all control our clients’ choices,” Damen replied briskly, feeling his defenses rise as they always did. Vannes merely laughed.

“Not with that attitude,” Vannes chirped, then proceeded to pat Damen on the arm in a placating yet slightly patronizing gesture. “I’ll see you around, Damen. Best of luck.” 

“Thank you, Vannes. It was nice meeting you,” Damen replied as she sashayed away in her stilettos. Damen turned to knock on Reginald’s door, but it swung open a second before his knuckles could hit wood. Damen stepped back in shock. 

“Damianos,” Reginald crooned. “You’re late.” 

“I apologize sir, I just ran into Vannes and we–” 

“Ah, yes, Vannes. She’s an equity partner here, so don’t step on her toes. Charming, that one – she insisted on having her last name added to the firm’s title, but we can’t have anyone sullying The DeVere Firm’s original name and reputation, can we? Everyone has their place and must fall in line.” 

Damen didn’t know how to respond. He sensed that Reginald had more than one meaning behind his words. 

“Anyhow, come on in, my friend. Make yourself comfortable.” Reginald stepped aside and gestured for him to enter, to which Damen heeded. 

Reginald went to sit behind his grand desk – also dark mahogany with gold trim, no surprise there – while Damen sat in one of the two green armchairs facing it. Damen took a moment to fully take in the room. It was the largest office Damen had ever seen and it was decorated with what appeared to be antiques: sturdy shelves full of worn books, vases, a couple lamps, a globe, etc. There were also deep blue curtains partially closed that gave the office a dark, secretive air. Damen shifted in discomfort. 

“So,” Reginald began. “How is your first day going so far?” 

Damen cleared his throat. “It’s going well. I spoke with Orlant and Laurent today, and I’m just trying to get a handle on each new name as they come.” 

“And? How did my nephew receive you? I told him of your hiring this morning, and I have to say, he wasn’t pleased. What’s your history?” Reginald inquired.

Damen was pretty sure that Reginald had to know of his standing with Laurent – they were infamous for their competitive relationship and going head-to-head on cases – but his boss perhaps just wanted his side of the story. Damen wasn’t sure what to say; he didn’t _hate_ Laurent, nor did he wish him harm. It was just so easy to become infuriated with someone so incendiary. How was he supposed to say that to the man’s own uncle? 

“It’s… complicated,” Damen hesitated, not wanting to step on Reginald’s toes about his family member. 

Reginald raised an eyebrow. “It’s complicated? That sounds like a Facebook relationship status.” 

Damen let out a too-loud laugh, choked on his spit and launched into a coughing fit he was unable to control for a few seconds. He cleared his throat. 

“No, not like that. Obviously, there’s no way we’d ever – um, anyway...,” Damen stuttered out, his cheeks burning. “Laurent and I are just naturally competitive with one another. He’s one hell of a lawyer and I respect that, but we do face each other more often than normal, so there’s bound to be some… tension. I have no ill will toward him, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.” 

The man behind the desk barked out a laugh. “Now I know you’re lying. You don’t have to sugar coat things for me, Damianos. My nephew and I have our own disagreements. He can be quite difficult, as I’m sure you know, but it’s nothing a little discipline can’t handle. Just know, if you ever have any problem with him, bring it to me and I’ll sort it out immediately. I will not have you feeling unwelcome in this firm.” 

“Thank you, sir, I really appreciate that, but I’m sure there’ll be no problems,” Damen said awkwardly. He would like to think that he and Laurent could get along on working terms. Sure, they were at odds most of the time, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be civil with each other. At least, Damen hoped so. He had never wanted to have a negative relationship with Laurent in the first place. After all, Laurent had been the one to act rude to begin with – Damen merely matched his energy, as anyone would. 

“That being said,” Reginald continued. “I have a favor to ask of you.” 

There was no telling what “a favor” constituted in Reginald’s mind, and Damen found himself on edge considering what could possibly be asked of him. “Oh?”

“I do so worry about my nephew sometimes, as he’s so young and tends to get himself into situations where he needs a helping hand.”

Damen didn’t think Laurent _ever_ needed a helping hand to save him, but he nodded along anyway to assuage his boss.

“So, I am asking you to… look over him, if you will, so that I can make sure he’s on the right path,” Reginald finished.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Damen said slowly, trying to absorb what he was hearing.

“Just report back to me at the end of each day and tell me about what he’s doing, what his plans are, where he’s at in his cases – anything that could be deemed relevant or important,” Reginald explained, waving his hand around. 

“How will I be able to do that while working on my own cases?” Damen thought out loud, bewildered at the idea of trying to juggle so much at once. He suddenly heard a light knock.

“Excuse me,” Reginald said as he rose from his desk. “I apologize, just one moment.” 

Damen watched him walk across the room to his office door and open it to reveal Laurent leaning against the wall outside. 

“You summoned me?” Laurent asked, striding into the room with all the arrogance and confidence of a jungle cat. He froze when he saw Damen. “What is the meaning of this?”

Reginald returned to his chair and sat down, gesturing for Laurent to sit. 

“Not even a greeting to say hello? Don’t be rude,” Reginald said smoothly. “What a shame. You used to be such a lovely boy.”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed and he stayed silent as Damen shifted in discomfort at the comment. He felt like he was intruding upon something not meant for his eyes and ears. 

“Anyway,” Reginald plowed ahead. “I’ve summoned both of you here to give you some important news.” 

Damen was holding his breath. 

“Damen, since you’re new, I’m going to have you shadow all of Laurent’s cases from here on out to get your footing in the firm. You’ll act as his second counsel on each,” Reginald announced with a growing smile. “Until I feel Damen is adequately prepared, you two will be working together indefinitely.” 

“What,” Laurent said flatly. 

“Oh,” Damen choked out.

“Yes,” Reginald smiled brightly at what he clearly believed to be a brilliant idea. 

Damen now knew how he’d be able to report back to Reginald – he’d be with Laurent essentially every hour of the day. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Part of Damen began to dread his initiation into The DeVere Firm, because Laurent was the most difficult person he’d ever encountered. Another part of him was secretly pleased that he’d get to spend so much time with Laurent. He knew it’d irritate the hell out of Laurent, and he’d get ample time to push all of his nemesis’ buttons for entertainment. He also was curious as to how Laurent worked – what cases he chose, why he chose key pieces of evidence to focus on, etc. 

Maybe he’d finally get time to solve the mystery that was Laurent DeVere. 

“Surely there are better ways to initiate Damen into the firm,” Laurent said, standing and taking a step away from Damen as if that could detach him from the responsibility of working with him. Damen tried not to feel offended. 

“Nonsense,” Reginald proclaimed. “This will be a wonderful opportunity for you to work out your differences and learn how to work together. Do you not think you’re equipped to deal with such a small task?” 

“No,” Laurent said slowly, looking Reginald up and down like he was assessing what the other was thinking. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure Damen and I will get along swimmingly.” Laurent sent a tight smile Damen’s way, and Damen tried not to laugh at how forced it looked. 

“Wonderful. I think this is an arrangement that will work out for everyone involved.” Reginald’s smile was wide.

“Of course,” Laurent responded rigidly. 

“You two are dismissed. Do get along,” Reginald said with a wave of his hand. “And Damen… think about what I said,” he finished with a pointed look. 

Laurent’s head snapped toward Damen as he pinned Damen with a look that spoke volumes about the interrogation Damen was about to endure. Both men filed out of Reginald’s office while Laurent closed the door behind them, and Damen began to open his mouth when Laurent spoke up. 

“Listen,” he began. “Here are the ground rules. Do what I say. Don’t question me. Don’t complain. Don’t be stupid. And don’t fail. Got it?” 

Damen scowled. Laurent had a habit of doubting his abilities and treating him like he was less than – something that had always bothered him to no end. The only remedy to the bitterness that clawed its way up his throat when Laurent acted this way was thinking about the times Damen had beaten Laurent in a case. They were almost even in their wins against each other, if Damen remembered correctly, but that didn’t stop Laurent from acting haughty whenever they spoke to each other. Clearly being on the same side didn’t change how Laurent saw Damen either. 

“And,” Laurent continued with a scrutinizing look in Damen’s direction. “What was my uncle talking about in there? What did he say to you when I wasn’t there?”

“He just gave me some advice about starting here,” Damen lied. “The hierarchy of things, who’s who, big no-no’s, stuff like that. Why so curious?” 

Laurent didn’t deign to give him an answer. Instead, he merely turned on his heel and walked down the hallway in front of them, presumably back to his office. Damen was curious about where Laurent’s office was located, since they’d be working together from there on out, so he caught up and followed. 

“So what case will we start with today?” Damen asked, keeping pace with Laurent on his right side. “You should show me the case files you’re working on so I can get caught up on everything.” 

Laurent scowled and started walking faster, taking a sharp right down another hall. “You’re not in any position to tell me what I _should_ be doing. Just go back to your office and wait on my next instructions.” 

“You can’t seriously expect me to just sit and do nothing while you do all the work. Give me something to do,” Damen tried not to sound like he was begging, but the last thing he wanted to do right then was sit around with nothing to work on. That’d almost be worse than continuing to work at his family’s firm. 

They had reached what apparently was Laurent’s office, which was coincidentally right down the hall from Damen’s new one. He hadn’t bothered to check who he was near before. Laurent stopped and turned around to give Damen a scathing look. 

“I don’t want to give you the chance to mess up any of my work–” he began. 

“I’m not going to do that,” Damen interrupted exasperatedly. “We’re on the same side here. Would you please just trust me to help?” 

Damen held eye contact with Laurent when he said that last part, trying to assure Laurent that he wouldn’t sabotage anything and would do whatever he could to make Laurent’s cases go smoothly. And he was being serious – Damen only wanted to _help_ , but Laurent was too naturally suspicious to buy that. 

The man in question then huffed, opened his office door to enter, and said “wait here” before closing it again. He came back out a few minutes later with around 15 case files stacked in his hands and shoved them at Damen. 

“Here, go over these and come back when you know every inch of them front to back. I expect perfection and nothing less. I’ll give you more when you’re done. But for now,” Laurent flicked his eyes up from the files to meet Damen’s gaze, “this’ll have to do. Don’t bother me until you’re done.” 

“Okay,” Damen replied, feeling a little lost in Laurent’s blue gaze and then reprimanding himself for doing so. “Got it. Thanks.” 

He reached over to grab the files from Laurent and their hands brushed against each other for a second as Laurent passed them over. Laurent snatched his hand back as if it was burned and cleared his throat, averting his gaze to somewhere behind Damen. Damen resisted smiling. Laurent merely re-entered his office and closed the door in Damen’s face. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of flashbacks detailing Damen and Laurent's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this written for a while, but I got so caught up between school and work that I forgot to post it until now! 
> 
> Thank you for all of the kind comments on the first chapter; they were much appreciated.

_ → 1 year ago _

Damen scowled at the last line of an email he had just received from a man he’d never heard of before – Laurent DeVere. 

_ If your client could so kindly sort out their own company matters before coming for my client with an unwarranted case on the grounds of circumstantial evidence at best, it would be greatly appreciated.  _

The person who wrote the email managed to sandwich a biting statement in between words that seemed polite enough, and Damen wasn’t sure what to do with the information. Was this unprofessional? He rarely got something so directly scathing over email before. What did this lawyer even have against him? 

Damen recognized the name – DeVere – and a quick Google search led him to the revelation that this man was a part of The DeVere Firm, which he really should’ve guessed from the start. His LinkedIn didn’t reveal much about the man besides his current occupation and education, and there was no photo. Nonetheless, Damen’s interest was piqued – what lawyer said something like this to someone they’ve never met before?

Damen opened up his email and clicked “reply.”

_ Laurent –  _

_ Thank you for your advice. We’ll see what counts as circumstantial evidence in due time. _

_ Best, _

_ Damianos Akielos _

He sat there for 5 minutes just staring at his blinking cursor, wondering if he should write more. Should he rise to the implicit challenge he’d been given? He was tempted to give a whole outline as to why his evidence was rock solid, but then he’d be giving away too much of his case. Maybe that had been Laurent’s intention in baiting him – to get him to defend himself so vehemently that he gave his best angles away before the case even truly began getting underway. But then again, maybe he was reading into things and this Laurent was actually a kind person who couldn’t convey tone over email. 

Damen clicked “send” and moved on to other things. 

The next day, Damen woke up to an email from Laurent: 

_ See you in court.  _

_ Laurent DeVere  _

Damen’s jaw dropped. Laurent wanted to take this case to  _ court _ ? Over a breached non-competition agreement? There was no way Damen’s client was going to want to take this thing to court; the publicity of a well-known company squabbling with a former employee over where he could work wouldn’t look good for anyone involved. This case warranted an arbitration at the most – discretion was best.

Soon after, Damen sent a calendar invite to Laurent to meet in person so they could work this out in private. 

But when Damen walked into one of his firm’s meeting rooms to see Laurent DeVere, he froze. 

_ Fuck _ . 

Leave it to the universe to send the most attractive person he’d ever seen as his opposing counsel. Laurent was sitting straight-backed at – of course – the head of the table in a black suit with a dark blue tie, casually scrolling through his phone when Damen walked in. His hair looked like pure sunlight and it framed high cheekbones and a full, pink mouth. Laurent barely spared a glance at Damen with his striking blue eyes before looking back at his phone and typing something out onto it. 

“Yes?” Laurent asked imperiously, as if he owned the room and Damen was merely ruining his afternoon. Damen’s blood boiled, but he tried to reign it in. 

“I wanted to meet with you in person because –” 

“Yes, it did seem rather odd that you felt the need to meet over a non-compete,” Laurent remarked, setting down his phone and pinning Damen with a look that said  _ I’d rather be anywhere else but here _ . 

“Well it’s strange that you thought taking this case to  _ court _ would be necessary,” Damen half-yelled in an outburst, upset with the way he was being treated by the man in front of him. 

“You’re the one who threatened it, did you not?” Laurent asked, raising an eyebrow at Damen. 

Damen wanted to hit something to ease the frustration that was burning through his veins. Who did this guy think he was? “No, that was you, if I recall correctly.” 

“I merely told you that my client’s not budging and that you don’t have a case anyway,” Laurent stated matter of factly. “You insisted that you did and that we’d see ‘in due time.’ My client won’t settle, and you seem to be dead set on your admittedly flimsy case, so what other endpoint is there to reach?”

There were numerous other endpoints they could reach, but Damen didn’t say anything as he sat down in a chair by Laurent and opened up his notepad. 

“Look, the facts are that Wilson signed a non-compete knowing full well the stipulations of it, including the types of jobs that would violate the agreement. The descriptions of his old and new job are nearly identical. I’m sure it will be evident in both employment contracts. There’s no disputing it. Tell him to find another job, and one where he doesn’t use the specific skills he learned while working for my client,” Damen explained. 

“You’re referencing his new employment contract that you haven’t even seen yet? You magically know its contents?” Laurent asked, raising an arrogant eyebrow. 

“I may not have seen it, but Wilson likes to beef up his LinkedIn with overly-detailed descriptions of his jobs, past and present. We know enough from that, and I’m sure if we subpoena the employment contract the facts will line up,” Damen countered, feeling frustrated that Laurent was acting as if he had the upper hand when he most certainly did  _ not _ . “Melrose & Co. wants–”

“We’re not paying you anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Laurent retorted, looking down his nose at Damen with all the contempt in the world. 

Damen straightened in his chair. “Well, then I guess we’ll have to–”

“That’ll be enough for today,” Laurent interrupted for the second time, standing up and beginning to gather his things. “Where is the nearest coffee shop?”

“I–” Damen started, once again shocked by the audacity of the man in front of him. “Google it,” he finished bitterly. 

Laurent’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be on my way then,” he said, exiting the room and slamming the door behind him. 

Damen sighed and ran a hand over his face. Great. Laurent DeVere was as unpleasant in person as he was over email. 

_ → 10 months earlier _

Laurent had woken up exhausted. It wasn’t unusual, but it was unwelcome nonetheless. No matter how many years went by, Laurent couldn’t seem to shake himself of countless nightmares that had him up and out of bed in the early hours of the morning. 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. became his hours – the times in which he was most often chased away from sleep and into the waking world, when he’d slip out of bed and pad over to the sliding doors of his balcony to look at the skyline and think of nothing but the color of the sky at that hour. It was meditative, in a way, to focus on the details of how the city looked in the last dregs of darkness that early morning brought. Sometimes, to calm himself down, Laurent would count every person he saw on the street below or through a window in their apartment. And, when the sun rose, he’d name all the colors he could see as the sun began to lit up the world. It was all to distract himself from the dreams he was constantly running away from. If he could just stay in the present moment, as his therapist said, he could pull himself out of the past. 

On this particular morning, Laurent had woken up at 3:47 a.m. to the sound of his own harsh breathing rattling out of his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t open his eyes or move as his body struggled to catch up to his waking brain, and Laurent felt himself begin to panic. Once again, he was powerless. Once again, he couldn’t seem to make the nightmare end. After a few moments that felt like hours, Laurent’s eyes fluttered open and his body finally jerked itself out of sleep. Laurent immediately rolled off of his side and onto his back just to prove to himself that he could move – that he could get away, if need be. 

“Fuck,” Laurent muttered to himself, as he became aware of the sweat drenching his body and his long white night shirt. “Fucking shit.” 

Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Laurent flexed his feet, held his hands out in front of his face, clenched his fists –  _ I’m here _ , he thought over and over again, trying to will away past memories and stay grounded.  _ I’m here.  _

After a few minutes of deep breathing, Laurent ran a hand over his face and sighed. Though this resurfacing of panic in the early hours of morning wasn’t rare, it was still just as unwelcome each time. Laurent didn’t think he’d ever get fully used to it, despite how much he tried. It was as if there was still a part of him that screamed  _ no, this isn’t right _ , and refused to allow him to become accustomed to the images that flashed through his head when he slept. 

Laurent stood and headed to the kitchen on shaky legs to make himself a cup of chamomile tea. As he rose, he was sure to be careful to not wake his sleeping cat on the edge of the bed. She was fickle and hated being woken up before 8 a.m., so Laurent had to be stealthy whenever he left the bedroom for one of his early morning rituals. 

While he made his tea, Laurent thought about the day ahead of him. Although a part of him dreaded going to work and seeing his uncle every day, another part of him lit up at the thought of it, because it was the fight that fueled him – the fight of working at the firm despite everything and causing his uncle problems whenever he could. His uncle would do whatever he could to prevent Laurent from taking over the firm, and that included attempting to prove that Laurent was incompetent, so Laurent had to work ten times harder than anyone else and jump through all of his uncle’s ridiculous hoops just to stay afloat at the firm. It was tiring, but necessary. If Laurent could just last another 6 months, he’d be set, but he worried that the closer he got to his birthday, the further his uncle would go to steal his family firm away for good. 

When Laurent finished his tea, he headed over to his balcony to start his daily routine of grounding himself in the world around him. The habit of counting people and naming colors soothed him in a way few things could. 

After an hour of sitting outside, Laurent figured that he might as well get a head start on his work for the day with the extra few hours he had before he had to head into the office. Bringing his laptop out to the balcony, Laurent opened it and first checked his email. He scrolled through a few spam emails until he saw one in particular from a client he’d represented before, with the subject being “ _ Demand letter _ .” A demand letter wouldn’t be too difficult to deal with, Laurent figured while he opened the email. 

Laurent read through the client’s description of the situation before opening the attachment he’d sent with it. The first thing Laurent noticed made him groan in annoyance. Across the header of the letter in big words read “Akielos & Associates.” 

“Please don’t tell me it’s – fuck,” Laurent grumbled, as he read and confirmed that the letter was, in fact, from Damen. Laurent rolled his eyes.  _ Of course _ . 

He read through the letter carefully, already drafting up a reply in his head, while sipping his tea and enjoying the morning breeze the city offered. The letter was well-composed, he had to admit, although begrudgingly so. To Damen’s face, he’d tear into it with vigor, but privately he could admit the writing was good. 

Laurent sat back in his chair and sighed. He remembered the first time he’d encountered Damianos Akielos, and what led up to it. When he’d gotten his first email from Damen, which oozed confidence and self-assuredness, Laurent had been so peeved that he’d decided to look up the man online to see what he could learn about him. That was Laurent’s first mistake. Damen, being… Damen, broadcasted his life online like the idiot he was. Whether it was through Instragam, Facebook or Twitter, Damen made a habit of posting what was going on in his life. There were countless photos of him smiling with friends, instances of him interacting with people on their posts, and times when he just threw out his thoughts on current events onto his timeline. (Disgustingly, Laurent found himself agreeing with what Damen had to say more often than not). 

Almost immediately, Laurent had decided he didn’t like Damen. He despised the way he lived his life so freely, the way things seemed to be easy for him. Damen was so open with himself and his happiness that it made Laurent sick. And the fact that Damen looked like  _ that _ should’ve been illegal. It was then that Laurent decided to be as terrible as he possibly could to Damen, just out of spite. If Damen’s life was perfect, let Laurent be the thorn in his side that ruined it all. 

And then, they had met in person, and even though Laurent had sworn to himself he’d stay composed, he simply couldn’t help himself and treated Damen with all of the scorn and bitterness he could summon. And  _ screw Damen _ for being even more attractive in person – that especially pissed Laurent off, who decided to double down on his mission to make Damen’s life hell because  _ who has the right to look like that? _

Finishing his tea and setting it down on the small table in front of him, Laurent decided to start drafting a response to Damen’s demand letter so that he could get it out of the way as quickly as possible. It felt good to throw himself into work. It helped take his mind off of what had chased him onto the balcony in the first place. 

_ Today will be good,  _ he promised himself. He’d make it through the day. 

_ → 8 months earlier _

8 a.m. was possibly Damen’s favorite time of the day. He loved the morning – the possibility of it, the anticipation for what the day ahead of him could hold, the brightness of the early sky. So when his upcoming court date was scheduled so early in the day, Damen had no complaints about it; in fact, his skills were probably amplified by his love of mornings.

When he picked up coffee that morning, he chatted with all the baristas on duty, and when he set the metal detector off at the courthouse, he wasn’t even annoyed that he’d forgotten to take off his belt for the thousandth time. Today was a day for winning, Damen could feel it in his bones. 

As Damen walked into the courthouse, he breathed in the smell of hardwood and cleaning chemicals deeply, relishing in the familiar scent. For a few minutes Damen sat on a bench and finished up the breakfast sandwich he’d bought that morning, getting lost in thought over his case notes. When he finished, he rose up to go wash his hands of the grease the sandwich had left. 

However, upon opening the bathroom door, Damen immediately paused. Laurent DeVere stood in front of the mirror, brushing out his hair meticulously with a comb. Laurent’s hair was long, brushing a little past his shoulders and looking softer than pure light, and Damen couldn’t help but feel entranced. He had the sudden urge to walk over and run his hands through Laurent’s hair, although he was sure he’d get his eyes gouged out for trying. The two men made eye contact in the mirror, and Damen made sure to commit the sight of blonde hair framing blue eyes and a shapely mouth to his memory. 

Damen walked up to the sink, set his briefcase and trial box down, and reached for the soap. 

“Last minute pampering before trial?” Damen couldn’t help but tease him as he put his hands under the automatic sink. Laurent scowled, looking caught out, and quickly began to pull his hair into a half-assed low ponytail instead of the braid Damen suspected he was originally going to don before Damen walked in. 

“Don’t let me ruin your process, I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Damen spoke again, sending a wry look in Laurent’s direction. Damen saw a hint of red blossom on Laurent’s cheeks as Laurent shoved his comb into his briefcase and walked briskly past Damen out of the bathroom without saying anything. Damen couldn’t help but smile to himself at having caught Laurent in the act of such a simply intimate moment, and that it seemed to have perturbed his adversary so much to have one of his defenses down, even if for a moment. 

Damen finished washing his hands before exiting the bathroom with his things, and he saw Laurent on a bench nearby adjusting his ponytail with a concentrated look on his face. Damen walked over to him. 

“What are you here for?” Damen asked. 

“Preliminary injunction hearing,” Laurent explained, still toying with his ponytail. 

“Ah, I see. Everything alright with your hair, Rapunzel?” Damen weathered Laurent’s withering glare with dignity. 

“Rapunzel’s hair was much longer than this, if I remember correctly. What’s with your obsession with my hair, anyway?” Laurent replied, raising an eyebrow at Damen as he finished adjusting his ponytail. 

Now Damen was the one blushing. He didn’t have a fixation on Laurent’s hair. That would be totally stupid and out of character for Damen. Of course not. 

“I’m here for the same thing, actually. Preliminary injunction hearing.” Damen hurried to change the subject. 

“Well, look at us,” Laurent drawled. “We’re just two peas in a pod. Should we make friendship bracelets now, too?” 

Damen laughed. “That’d be the day.” 

Laurent then opened up his notepad without any further response and started going over his notes. Damen, feeling emboldened by the joke, sat on Laurent’s left side and started going over his notes, too. They sat in silence for the next 10 minutes, each in their own world, until Laurent had to go to his hearing. 

“Bye, Laurent,” Damen called out, a bit miffed that there was no goodbye between them. 

“Fuck off, Damen,” Laurent called back.

_ → 6 months earlier  _

“Objection, Your Honor, he’s badgering my witness,” Damen proclaimed, standing from his seat while he glared holes into the back of Laurent’s head. 

Laurent didn’t dare turn around to make eye contact with the man who had just spoken, but instead he kept his eyes on Judge Matthis in front of him. Laurent knew that Damen found his cross-examination style unfair at times, but that didn’t mean he was about to pull any punches just for his opposing counsel’s sake. Laurent even found himself tearing into opposing witnesses even harder in Damen’s presence, just to piss him off further than his presence already clearly did. 

“I’m merely asking for his version of the events,” Laurent stated calmly. 

“Yeah, by provoking him with derisive questions,” Damen retorted.

Judge Matthis looked back and forth between the two men thoughtfully, and then: “Objection overruled. Continue, counselor.” 

Laurent smiled to himself with satisfaction, and he could practically feel the ire seeping from Damen’s pores. In truth, he  _ had _ been badgering the witness – not that he’d ever admit that to Damen himself. Judge Matthis just seemed to not care at the moment.

“As I was saying…” Laurent continued on with his cross examination, grilling the man in front of him to the best of his abilities and stalwartly ignoring the force of mankind that was Damianos Akielos.

“Objection, relevancy,” Damen stood again after another 5 minutes, interrupting Laurent’s cross examination once again. 

“Whether or not he’s biased against the defendant is always relevant,” Laurent countered, still refusing to look at Damen. 

“The level of detail opposing counsel is asking about is unnecessary to this case. He’s just trying to make my witness look bad,” Damen said with a hint of anger in his voice. 

Now Laurent did turn around to face Damen, even though he definitely shouldn’t have. “Oh? And you can read my mind now?” 

“You’re more predictable than you think,” Damen replied, staring deep into Laurent’s eyes with a heat that made Laurent blush. He had to turn around before Damen could see it, or else Damen would never let him live it down. Laurent’s body had a way of reacting to Damen in the courtroom that he struggled to get a hold of at times, and he resented the hell out of it.

“You two squabble like an old married couple,” Judge Matthis mused, leaning back in his chair and regarding the two lawyers with thought. “Let’s remember to keep it professional in my courtroom and leave the personal issues outside.” 

“Yes, your honor,” they both said at once. Damen had the decency to look embarrassed, but Laurent refused to be cowed and merely turned away with his nose in the air. 

“Objection is sustained. Keep things on track, counselor,” Judge Matthis said to Laurent, and now  _ he _ was the one who was embarrassed, although he did his damndest not to show it to Damen. 

Overall, the cross-examination went well. Laurent ended up proving his point about the witness being biased without any further objections from Damen, which was a win. When he finished, Judge Matthis called a recess for lunch time, which was perfect for Laurent because he was starving. 

As Laurent was leaving the courtroom, he heard Damen call his name. Rolling his eyes, Laurent kept walking, fishing for his wallet in his briefcase and mentally debating which restaurant he’d dine at. Damen called his name again, and Laurent began to walk faster. However, Damen had a good 6 inches on Laurent and his long legs were able to keep up easier than Laurent was comfortable with.

“Would it kill you to just wait?” Damen asked, exasperation clear in his voice when he finally caught up to Laurent and kept pace with him. 

“It would, actually. You drain my lifeforce, and I have places to be,” Laurent said, keeping his pace and refusing to look at Damen. 

“For lunch? Let’s go together,” Damen offered. “No discussion of the case, I swear. Just keep me company.” 

Laurent wanted to run away. He and Damen didn’t get along, that much was clear. They bickered constantly outside of work and were at each other’s throats when in court or a mediation or arbitration or any situation that involved them going head-to-head. Some days, Laurent was sure Damen would hit him to shut him up. But then there were times like this – when it seemed like Damen saw beyond all that and actually wanted to  _ talk  _ to him. It baffled Laurent to no end and made him uncomfortable each time it happened.  _ There’s nothing here for you to see,  _ Laurent thought. 

Laurent stopped mid-step. “Why?” He asked suspiciously, and Damen shrugged in response. 

“Why not?” 

And that was how Laurent found himself sitting across from Damen in some Italian restaurant five minutes away from the courthouse. Damen had driven him, and the ride over had been silent, with Laurent resolutely angling his body away from Damen and thinking about a different client he needed to call soon. Damen let him be and merely drove them to the restaurant, lightly humming some song that had been playing a lot on the radio. 

“So…” Damen began. 

“So,” Laurent echoed, toying with the napkin in front of him and trying to think of something intelligent to say. Usually he had no trouble with it, but Damen could be distracting. 

“How has your day been?” Damen finished, giving Laurent a hesitant smile. Laurent had to look away from it. 

“Well, besides facing an absolute idiot in court today, I’m quite busy,” Laurent answered in an attempt to introduce some malice into the conversation. 

“Hey,” Damen protested. “We agreed on no case talk.”

“I’m not talking about the case, I’m talking about  _ you _ ,” Laurent emphasized, which, infuriatingly, made Damen smile even more.    
  
“I just love the nice things you always say about me. They warm my heart, truly. I, for one, am having a great day,” Damen plowed on. “After court today I have another meeting with a client, then I’ll get some paperwork done, go home, cook, and call it a day. See? That’s not so hard to say, is it?” 

Laurent sighed. “I’m not here to exchange pleasantries. I’m here to eat.” 

“Why can’t we do both?” Damen asked. The genuineness in his voice was grating. 

“Because,” Laurent explained. “You’re you, and I’m me.”

“Yes, we do make a great pair,” Damen said in mock seriousness. 

“Shut up,” Laurent was trying not to smile now. Dammit. 

“I’m serious. Can you imagine us as –” 

Laurent cleared his throat, desperately needing Damen to change the topic of conversation and doing so himself. “Did you hear that Wayne Braxton got his bar license taken away?”

“What?” Damen gaped. Mission accomplished, as Damen clearly just forgot what he was going to say in favor of lawyer gossip. Laurent internally smirked. Too easy. 

The conversation continued into their meal as they moved on to gossiping about other lawyers, and then New York news. It was weird to be speaking with Damen like this, as if they were friends. Laurent had never tried it before, and not because he was never hit with the desire to, but rather because he knew he couldn’t become friends with Damen –  _ Damianos _ , he always called him, to make sure some modicum of distance was established between them. Laurent knew he couldn’t get too close, for a myriad of reasons, the main one being their baseline incompatibility that Laurent enforced through icy words whenever Damen seemed emboldened to be kind. 

By the end of the meal, Laurent actually felt… good, which is why it was time to ruin things. No use in letting things go sour on their own. Laurent saw the perfect opportunity when Damen took out his wallet and offered to pay at the end of the meal. 

“You can’t seriously expect me to accept that,” Laurent said dubiously, raising an eyebrow at the credit card Damen had just taken out. 

“Why not?” Damen scowled. 

“I agreed to lunch because I was bored, that doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends. I’m paying for myself,” Laurent let a hint of sourness creep into his tone and tried to ignore the sliver of hurt that flicked across Damen’s face quickly. 

“Oh… yeah, ok,” Damen replied dully, refusing to meet Laurent’s eyes. 

The ride back to the courthouse was silent, but a different type of silence this time. Laurent, admittedly, was not a fan, but he couldn’t complain when he was the one who purposefully caused the mood between them in the first place. 

It was for the best.

_ → 4 months earlier  _

When Damen arose for court that morning, he spent a minute just sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxer briefs thinking about the day ahead of him. He’d be facing Laurent in an hour, and the thought of them going against him once again in the courtroom sent a pulse of trepidation through him, but also a distinct thrill; no other lawyer that Damen knew could compare to Laurent’s quick responses, his wit, and his cunning. Though these qualities excited a primal part of Damen, they also made him slightly nervous. He never knew how cases would go against Laurent, despite the fact that he faced Laurent more than any other lawyer throughout his career. In addition to every case being unique, Laurent also took a different strategy with each – he was unpredictable most of the time, often surprising Damen and continually keeping him on his toes.

There were, however, select moments when Damen  _ did _ end up predicting Laurent’s next moves correctly. Those times, Damen always felt shock and delight run through him, although he wasn’t always sure the exact reason of why they pleased him so much – he’d like to say that he simply enjoyed beating Laurent (which was true), but there was more to it than that. Damen wanted to further understand the mystery that was Laurent and liked whenever he could read him.

With all of this in mind, Damen stood from his bed and headed over to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. He walked over to his sink and started brushing his teeth, staring at his reflection with bleary eyes as his thoughts slid over to his firm. Pallas had just won his first big case and they’d be celebrating with a few other lawyers from the firm that night. Damen remembered how Kastor had patted Pallas on the back and congratulated him. Damen had frowned, reminded of all the times Kastor had done that to other lawyers at their firm but never Damen, his own brother. He immediately scolded himself for his immaturity in sounding like a child, but the feeling remained nonetheless. 

Damen spit out the toothpaste into the sink, rinsing his mouth out and then reaching for his deodorant to put on. Afterwards, he walked over to his closet to start perusing potential suits he’d wear to court that morning. Despite growing up with him in his life, Kastor was still an enigma to Damen. When Damen was younger, he looked up to Kastor as if he were a second father to him, and saw his older brother through a pair of rose-colored glasses. However, as Damen grew up and matured, he began to see Kastor’s mannerisms and treatment of him in a different light. With adulthood, their interactions became more on-edge and discordant. 

Damen thought about how he didn’t prefer their evolved relationship as he sifted through his recently dry-cleaned suits, trying to decide between dark gray or black. He still tried to see the best in his brother, perhaps childishly holding on to the better memories they had together: playing hide and seek when Damen was a toddler, ten-year-old Damen learning how to play cards from his brother, Kastor teaching Damen how to drive at fifteen. 

Damen paused, hands stilling on the suits, and frowned. He amended the romanticization last thought – by the time Damen turned fourteen and began developing an idea of the person he wanted to be, both character and career wise, Kastor began treating him differently. The one time Damen brought it up at age seventeen, Kastor claimed it was because Damen was “growing into manhood” and therefore warranted harsher treatment; he couldn’t treat Damen like a kid anymore when real life didn’t function that way. And that was the main difference between him and his brother: Damen didn’t see the world that cynically.

He ended up going with black – a subtly bold color, one that demanded respect, which was an effect he would need with Laurent today. In every interaction they shared, Laurent tried to undermine Damen at every chance he got. After getting fully dressed and making a to-go cup of coffee, he headed out of his apartment to the courthouse to face the clusterfuck that would be this case.

30 minutes later, Damen was sitting on the steps outside the courthouse with his trial boxes surrounding him, reading over his case notes and jotting down some last minute comments (you can never be too prepared when facing Laurent) when a shadow suddenly blocked out the morning sun. He sighed, knowing what he’d see when he looked up from his papers, or more specifically,  _ who _ he’d see.

“Hello, Laurent,” he spoke before even looking up.

“Damianos,” Laurent said by way of greeting, setting down the elegant briefcase he was holding. It was never “hello” or “hi” or “how are you doing” – always just his proper name. Damen finally spared a glance up. 

Damen swallowed hard; Laurent was wearing a navy suit with black shoes and a brown briefcase slung over his shoulder. The blue brought out his eyes, and the crisp cut of the suit flattered his frame. His hair was neatly braided back, a classic Laurent hairstyle he often donned in addition to low ponytails, but Damen preferred his hair down now that he knew what it looked like. Damen had only seen it once, and he could never quite get the image out of his head whenever he dwelled on Laurent’s hair (dwell was not the right word – he just thought of it in passing, sometimes. Rarely. Practically never). 

“Laurent, aren’t we close enough by now for you to start using my preferred name?” Damen asked dryly. 

“Are we at the pet name level?” Laurent responded, raising an eyebrow. He pulled a protein bar out of his pocket and began to unwrap it, taking a bite right after his question.

“Of course we are. How many cases has it been together?” Damen stated.

“I’ve lost count; cases against you tend to be the most boring to me, so they all blur together in my memory,” Laurent said smoothly after swallowing. 

“What should your nickname be? How about ‘serpent’? That sounds perfect for you,” Damen quickly retorted, smiling when Laurent narrowed his eyes. 

“That does sound perfect – and what about you? I think brute, or bumbling idiot, would work just fine,” Laurent replied with a smirk. “You do certainly look like an idiot with all these trial boxes – is three really necessary for a copyright case? Are you that worried?”

Laurent waved his protein bar towards the boxes around Damen as he spoke, and, struck by a moment of impulsive inspiration, Damen grabbed the bar out of his hand and took a large bite. He tried not to burst out laughing when Laurent’s eyes widened comically before he could stifle the shocked reaction. 

Damen handed the protein bar back to Laurent and began speaking mid-chew. “Chocolate-flavored? Suits you, since you’re so sweet. Thanks for breakfast by the way – I didn’t realize you knew I’d forgotten to eat this morning. How considerate of you.”

“When you talk with your mouth full, you really do fulfill the nickname of brute… brute,” Laurent responded sourly. He regarded Damen for a split second and then swiftly one-upped him by taking a bite from the same bar. Damen’s mouth went dry; it shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have been important. 

But Damen couldn’t stop staring at Laurent’s mouth – a wicked mouth that had just been spewing venom – now touching the same place that Damen’s lips had just touched. It shouldn’t have been important. It wasn’t. It didn’t matter. Damen kept trying to convince himself of this fact internally while a small self-satisfied smile graced Laurent’s features at seeing how stricken Damen looked by such a simple act.

“Anyway, I’ll see you inside,” Laurent said nonchalantly and strolled past Damen to walk inside the courthouse. 

_ → 2 months earlier _

Laurent yawned and shook his head to try and wake up. 10 p.m. runs to the grocery store were not his forte, but before getting ready for bed he’d realized he’d run out of yogurts for his usual breakfast in the mornings, and Laurent refused to get up at the crack of dawn to go to the grocery store. 

He slowly slid his cart forward while leaning a good amount of his weight onto it, glancing down at the rushed list he’d made of other items he might as well pick up while he was there. As he shuffled from aisle to aisle, Laurent thought about his most recent case. Someone needed a restraining order against her abusive soon-to-be ex-husband, who wouldn’t leave her alone no matter what time of day it was. The poor woman couldn’t get an hour of rest without the anxiety of wondering whether her husband would accost her despite the fact that they were technically separated, so it was up to Laurent to handle both the divorce and filing of the restraining order – a double whammy of a case that Laurent didn’t mind handling, since he truly did care for the woman’s wellbeing.

Laurent enjoyed these types of cases, as much as he hated them. He disliked the content of them: the fact that somebody was getting hurt and needed help from the law, a system that didn’t always work in their favor. However, he liked the feeling of helping someone who truly needed it. Laurent’s profession could be cutthroat at times. Sometimes, his uncle assigned him to defend people he didn’t believe in, and he had to just keep his head down and do what he was told. Sometimes, he truly just disliked his clients and secretly hoped for their downfall. But the few cases he really cared about  _ meant _ something to Laurent and gave him a sliver of hope for the world. 

It was stupid and ridiculous, he knew that. Believing in things like  _ hope _ and  _ true justice  _ in a profession like his wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to do, but he simply couldn’t help himself. There was still that child part of Laurent who looked up to his big brother and saw him as the future lawyer who’d save the world of all the bad guys. Despite everything, that part of Laurent lived on. He was fiercely protective of it and kept it so hidden so that no one in the world could see his weakness, and he scoffed at lawyers who were so open about their belief system – lawyers like Damianos Akielos, who reminded Laurent of his brother more than he’d like to admit. Laurent knew it was masochistic to relentlessly attack a man who reminded him of his brother’s core values more than anyone else he’d encountered, but Laurent couldn’t help himself. He refused to be reminded of Auguste in someone so irksome, so it was his job to take the man down a peg whenever they were in contact with each other. It was kind of like a sport at this point. 

Laurent smirked. He had never been good at sports, but fucking with Damen? Consider him the MVP. 

The grocery store overhead lights flickered as Laurent slowly checked each item off of his list, yawning all the while. When he had two things left to pick up, though, his cart collided with someone else's going around an aisle corner. Laurent jolted and looked up from his list.

Speak of the devil. In front of him stood Damen himself, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking just as surprised as Laurent felt. Of course Laurent would run into Damen here at the grocery store by his house; he could never win against the universe. 

“Damianos,” Laurent said by way of greeting, eyeing Damen carefully and taking stock of what he saw. Laurent was dressed just as casually as Damen, but he still felt self conscious under the harsh store lighting in his hoodie and jeans. 

“Laurent,” Damen replied, looking Laurent up and down before meeting his eyes with an irritating smile. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you live near here?” 

“I can’t imagine a world in which I would ever tell you where I live,” Laurent shot back, feeling his hackles raise at the way Damen was looking at him. Damen merely laughed in response. 

“I live right around the corner,” Damen said, heedless of Laurent’s icy retort. “I can’t believe we’ve never seen each other here before now if this is where you usually go.” 

Not bothering with a response, Laurent maneuvered his cart past Damen and kept walking, determined to salvage the rest of his grocery store trip now that it had taken a turn for the worse.

Laurent sighed internally when he heard the sound of another cart right behind him. “Why are you following me, Damianos?”

Damen pulled his cart up right alongside Laurent’s and smiled at him. “I guess we just both happen to be going the same way.”

Laurent stopped and raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”

“Uh… bananas,” Damen phrased it almost as a question. 

“Okay, well I’m looking for milk, which is on the opposite side of the store from the produce, as you should know since you’re here so often,” Laurent said exasperatedly, not having the patience to play one of Damen’s games at this hour.

“Oh, yeah, well I’m getting milk, too,” Damen proclaimed with too much confidence, as he continued to follow Laurent when the other man started walking again.

“Wonderful,” Laurent replied flatly. 

They walked toward the refrigerated section of the store in silence, as Laurent did his damndest to ignore the ridiculous mass of muscle next to him named Damianos Akielos.  _ Don’t think about his muscles right now _ , Laurent scolded himself.  _ This is not the time nor place _ . Well, Laurent really shouldn’t be thinking about Damen’s muscles at  _ any  _ point in his day, but how was he supposed to stop himself from staring at the way Damen’s body moved underneath his suit whenever they were together in person, as the too-large man paced around and gestured and even just wrote things down. Damen could breathe and his muscles would somehow end up flexing, so really, you can’t blame Laurent if his mind happened to wonder every once in a while. 

“Are you okay?” Laurent heard from beside him, and he looked over at Damen in question. Laurent then had the realization that he’d stopped walking and was simply staring straight ahead as he got lost in thought about Damen’s physique, and color quickly bloomed high on his cheeks. 

“I–” Laurent started, then shut his mouth when he saw the slow smile spreading across Damen’s face when he caught Laurent’s blush. 

“I guess not,” Damen said with a hint of smugness and mischievousness. He had to wonder whether Damen was reading his mind or not. It wouldn’t be surprising, given how the man had learned to read Laurent’s moves over the months that they’d known each other. 

“Milk,” Laurent said tightly, walking forward quickly to try and lose Damen behind him. But, of course, Damen just sped up, too. 30 seconds later, they were at the dairy section, and Laurent sighed in relief. Maybe now he’d finally be able to get rid of the distracting oaf glued to his left side who had tried twice to ask about Laurent’s day.

Upon grabbing his gallon of milk, Laurent immediately took off in the direction of the yogurt section in hopes of losing Damen, to no avail. 

“Are you following me?” Laurent whipped around and asked in annoyance when he heard Damen pull up next to his cart again. Laurent surveyed Damen’s cart and saw that Damen hadn’t even grabbed any milk.  _ You have got to be fucking kidding me _ . 

“No,” Damen said defensively. “I just… want yogurt, too.” He then unconvincingly reached for a pack of yogurt without even looking at it and placed it into his cart as if it was the most casual thing ever. Laurent reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, calling on the universe to give him patience in that moment. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go check out,” Laurent said and promptly turned his cart around to head to the front of the store. When he didn’t hear any wheels on the ground behind him, Laurent stalwartly ignored the tinge of disappointment in his chest. 

“Laurent,” he heard from behind him, and his heart leapt into his throat. When he turned around to face Damen, the other man was looking at him with a strange mix of amusement, wonder, and something else Laurent couldn’t put his finger on.

“Yes?” 

“Goodnight,” Damen said with a small smile on his face. 

Laurent sighed. “Goodnight, Damianos.”

_ → 1 day earlier _

“So, what brings you to our firm, Damianos?” Reginald DeVere asked, peering at Damen from behind his thin-rimmed glasses. Damen wasn’t sure what it was about Reginald, but when he looked at you it felt like he could see things about you that you weren’t even cognizant of yourself. His stare penetrated you and asked questions without him needing to utter a single word.

Damen currently sat in a beige conference room of The DeVere Firm in a scene of deep irony, since this particular law firm was supposed to be his enemy firm. And yet, here he was, across from its boss interviewing for a job that he now desperately needed. 

“Uh, The DeVere Firm has an amazing track record. I also find it interesting that you all practice both criminal and civil law, as I’ve never seen a law firm do that before, so I’d love to diversify my skills in that sense. And your pro bono work is incredibly admirable. I’ve always wanted to get more into pro bono work, but I never had the chance to–”

“At your family’s firm,” Reginald supplied, eyeing Damen with scrutiny. “Akielos & Associates is also a strong firm, one that we’ve faced often, as you know. And you’re a smart man. We’ve admired the work you’ve done on past cases. So, I do have to ask: Why the switch? ”

Damen swallowed, steeling himself for the vaguest explanation he could possibly give, if Reginald hadn’t already somehow looked into his soul already and found the answers.

“Kastor and I…” Damen searched for the right words to describe he and his brother’s relationship. Reginald knew Kastor, of course, since many lawyers in New York knew each other, so he had to be careful about what he said. “We’ve had disagreements in the past. About various things – inner-workings of the firm, clients to take on, how to handle cases. And since he’s in charge now, I didn’t really… have a lot of say. So, I left.” 

“Mm, I see,” Reginald remarked, still studying Damen’s face. “You do realize that you will, similarly, not have much say in how things work around here, too. There’s a hierarchy of authority. You don’t get to suddenly waltz in and own the place.”

“No, no, I don’t think that at all,” Damen rushed to explain. “I just believe that things will be different here than they were back at Akielos. I’m hoping things are run with more… dignity.”

Damen felt stupid explaining why he left his firm. He did not say that he was essentially  _ ousted _ from the ranks of his family business, Kastor leaving him no choice but to leave after many tense disagreements about how the firm should be run. This opportunity was one of his last chances at finding another decent job in New York, as Damen had recently realized that Kastor blacklisted him at other top law firms. In short, Damen was desperate, and not even the controversial reputation of The DeVere Firm could dissuade him from applying. 

Reginald’s smile was slow but sure.

“Well,” he declared, setting his hands on his knees, “I can assure you our firm is the epitome of dignity, respect and justice, which is befitting a man of your character and accomplishments. I’m sure this will be a good fit for everyone involved. You’re hired.”

“Oh, I–” Damen stuttered, dumbfounded he had been hired so easily without any further questions or waiting period. However, he resolved not to dwell on the unusual gift he was being given. “Ok. Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir. I can’t wait to work with you.” Reginald reached out his hand across the table and Damen shook it firmly, feeling hopeful about what was to come. A new start would be good for Damen – exactly what he needed now. 

Reginald escorted Damen out of the room and to the front of the firm’s building with a hand on his back that Damen resisted shaking off. A man who Damen learned was named Orlant was walking into the building when they got there, and Reginald stopped to introduce them to each other. Afterward, the two men shook hands again and Damen moved to exit, but not before catching sight of a flash of blonde hair from one of the adjoining hallways near the front of the building. Could that have been Laurent? Damen paused in the doorway and strained to see, but the flash was there and gone in a heartbeat. 

Continuing on his way, Damen entered his car with thoughts of Laurent on his mind, which was no surprise. Damen wondered about the next time he’d see Laurent. Annoyingly, he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of seeing his counterpart once again – a spark he quickly tried to douse as he chastised himself for even thinking that way. 

_ Laurent is the enemy _ , Damen thought viciously, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. Sighing, Damen started his car and headed home with an uncomfortable feeling brewing in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [lamen-trash](https://lamen-trash.tumblr.com/). I love getting fic requests so feel free to send them my way!


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